


Heroes is a Terrible Song

by RiskyWrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky can't pick a song to save his life, Dancing and Singing, Drinking, Drinking Songs, Karaoke, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slice of Life, Steve is a lovesick fool, Tony as a snarky asshole, Tony has a drink named after him, What bar advertises Miller lite??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiskyWrites/pseuds/RiskyWrites
Summary: After a long battle, it's almost impossible for Captain America to be put aside in favor of Steve Rogers. He'll spend his whole night evaluating and reevaluating the battle if he has his way. Luckily, Bucky is there to not let him have that way. With the help of Tony Stark, the trio embark on the most dangerous mission yetKaraoke.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Heroes is a Terrible Song

Run it back one more time. Find the weak spots, shore em up. It was good today, but it wasn’t _clean_. It needed to be clean. 

“Okay well what about that one?”

They’d gotten lucky today. Too lucky, too many times. Luck was unreliable, fleeting and fickle. One lucky day today meant an unlucky day was coming soon. It was just basic science. Or something.

“What -- tell me you’re joking, Barnes.”

“...No? What’s wrong with that one?”

Sam’s gun had jammed. That must have been the turning point. The gun had jammed but that itself wasn’t that strange. It happened, it was an inevitable flaw in machinery as beaten and abused as theirs were. Not to say that their weapons weren’t well cared for. In fact, if he had a dollar for every time Bucky left streaks of rifle grease on the kitchen counter or forgot to put away his bottle of bore shine, he’d be able to… ...Well… Inflation was weird. But do something expensive for sure. 

“Look what they’re advertising. Miller Lite, Barnes. _Miller Lite_.”

“So?”

“' _So??_ 'God Barnes, you’re gonna be the death of me. You wanna take us somewhere where they _advertise_ the most basic vanilla, low tier, starting-zone alcohol?”

“I mean --”

“Or _worse,_ you wanna take your _husband_ to one? For shame, Rogers deserves better.”

Steve felt Bucky squeeze his hand and he squeezed back reflexively, but even the argument to his left wasn’t enough to draw him out his thoughts. Sam’s gun had jammed, but that wasn’t the problem. Sam’s gun had jammed and then Sam _froze_. 

“Come on, Tony, we’re not married,” Bucky murmured.

“You guys are a little married,” Stark replied dismissively as he scanned the strip. 

Sam _froze_ , and though it had only been for a fraction of a second, Steve had noticed. What would have happened if he’d hesitated any longer? If Nat hadn’t had his six? It would have ended much differently. Much uglier. Steve felt a wave of cold nausea at the thought. His jaw set a little tighter. Bucky squeezed his hand again. He gave a reflexive squeeze back. There was a shift of movement in his peripheral vision as the other two shared a glance. Steve paid it no mind.

“I dunno, I don’t really want it to count before we get him in a pretty white dress.”

“Oh yeah, something off the shoulder maybe. With some six inch heels.”

“Jesus, you’re gonna break his ankles, Stark.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Just means he can’t run away when he comes to his senses.”

And Nat and Clint had spent the entire time cracking wise. Even Bucky had joined in. This wasn’t a game, people had died. They had _killed_ people, this wasn’t the time to get cocky and over confident. They needed to tighten it back up. A jam shouldn’t cause a freeze.

“Where would you even get shoes that size?”

“I have my connections, don’t you worry your pretty head about it.”

“Ah, I remember when he was just a ninety pound runt with broken laces and shoes that were more hole than sole.”

“Aww, that’s cute.” A pause. “Man he is _really_ ignoring us, isn’t he?”

They were going to go back to drills. _Tomorrow_. The failing was his own, he’d gotten lax on them and they’d started to slip. There had to be a way to replicate a gun jam. He’d ask Buck later. Or maybe something like a rubber slug in the magazine. 

“I don’t think he means to. Hey, Steve.”

He nodded to himself. Modify the magazines, work through faster response times to jams. Drill it over and over and over.

“Stevie.”

Maybe work on explosions while they were at it. Even he needed work there, the side of his face still felt hot and tender from the blast a few hours ago and there were pricks of brightness that taunted him in the corners of his vision. Maybe if --

“ _Captain_.” Bucky stopped walking, squeezing his hand and jarring Steve out of his stride.

“Hmm? What?” He asked, coming back into reality for the first time since they’d split from the others post-debrief. Steve finally let his eyes turn to meet the glacier blue of his lover’s. The concern there brought him pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Where are you right now?” Bucky asked softly. Tony had continued on without them, leaving them standing on an unfamiliar sidewalk. Steve tilted his head up to the sky. It had long since lost its blue luster, fading instead into a bloody crimson and soon it would be black. The wind picked up, ruffling his hair, salty with dried sweat. It smelled thick with humidity and something he couldn’t quite place. There were still so many smells he didn’t recognize in the future. 

“I’m… right here, Buck.” He said, a little confused by the question.

“No, the _Captain_ is ‘right here’. Where are _you?_ Where’s my Stevie?”

Steve let out a low rush of air, feeling the muscles in his shoulders release, the tension in his back slowly twitching loose. “Sorry… Sorry. I’m here. It’s -- it could have gone really wrong today.”

Bucky tilted his head this way, then that way, considering his words. “Yeah… But it _didn’t._ ”

“Sam _froze_ , Buck. He could have easily been hit if the other side had seen it too --”

“But he _wasn’t_. Steve, you have to relax, the fight’s over. We won.”

“You didn’t see it, you were too busy bullshitting with Barton and Romanoff,” Steve said, immediately regretting the edge in his voice.

But he couldn’t take it back, and Bucky’s brows had raised. Slowly his head tilted to one side like a curious dog. “I didn’t see it?” Steve distrusted that tone. “Let me tell you what I _did_ see.”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “I _did_ see Sam freeze for .86 seconds. I saw Barton almost dry-fire his bow when his fingers slipped off the fletching trying to reload. I saw your stance not go wide enough -- _twice_ \-- and you were thrown off balance deflecting a blast. You wanna know how long it took you to recover, Stevie? Ask me how long it took you to recover.”

Steve could feel his own sour expression, but Bucky hadn’t unlaced their fingers. In fact, he’d shifted to face him fully, reaching out with his metal arm, his fingers so delicate as he clasped his other hand, holding him. Grounding him. 

“...How long did it take me to --”

“1.76 seconds, Stevie. Which, I should point out, is twice as long than it took Sam to recover from his freeze.”

Steve grunted softly, glancing at the scar near Bucky’s temple. “I keep forgetting you can do that.”

“It’s my curse,” Bucky said with that charming, boyish smile he reserved for only Steve.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “...Or you could be full of crap.”

“Or I could be full of crap,” Bucky agreed with a smirk. His grip tightened on his hands. “The point I’m trying to make though is that… We don’t need to be perfect. We don’t _fight_ for perfection, we fight to win. Or at the very least, we fight to _not lose_. Which we did today. Didn’t we?”

Steve paused, looking into those pale blue eyes, eyes he’d known since childhood. That he’d fought for, that he’d been willing to die for. That he was willing to _live_ for. The only eyes he would ever give up a fight to. “You’re right, Buck. We won.” He conceded. He turned his eyes up to the sky, watching as the red deepened into a velvety black. 

Bucky’s hand came up, fingers still laced in Steve’s, and tapped his chin to bring the blond man’s face back to his. “Hey. Don’t let Perfect be the enemy of Good, okay? We did good today.” Before Steve could respond, the gap between them closed and soft, tender lips were on his own. He felt the electric tingle of affection rise in his chest, muting the dull sting of his healing skin. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into it gently.

When it broke, he tried to follow it, making a soft sound of disappointment when one hand was released and Bucky was leading him after where Tony had disappeared. “So for tonight, put the Captain to bed. I want my Stevie. We’re gonna drink. Have a good time. And if you’re a good enough boy, maybe I’ll put _you_ to bed.” Bucky said, winking at him over his shoulder.

Steve grinned at him, letting himself be lead. “Such pretty promises, James Buck,” he purred. “You guys can drink, you know it doesn’t work on me and I don’t feel like being frustrated tonight.”

“Au contraire, my love.” Bucky said with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered there.”

“What do you--”

“Guys! _Guys!!_ ” Tony was practically yelling, though they were only a few dozen feet away. “I found it! The holy grail of post-battle relaxation and recuperation.” 

Steve squinted at the sign that Tony was eagerly pointing at. “...Karaoke… Is that like, a Korean beer or something?”

“It’s Japanese, you uncultured swine,” Stark scoffed and Bucky laughed as Steve reeled slightly at the sudden insult. “It is the _pinnacle_ of immersive interactive entertainment. Plus? You do it drunk.”

“Sounds fun, I’m in.” Bucky said, and without waiting for a response, he pulled his partner through the door with him. 

As they stepped through, Steve was dazzled by the warmth of the air, the scent of smoke -- both cigarette and more illicit herbs -- the flicker and buzz of neon lights and the loud, all consuming music. Someone was on the short stage, face red and flushed with alcohol, wailing their heart out to some song that he didn’t recognize. Anywhere else, the offkey bellowing would have been distracting and disorienting, but for some reason a table of equally inebriated men and women were howling with laughter and praise, occasionally chiming in to belt the chorus with him. Steve glanced at his own friends. Both were watching the stage with vibrant grins. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

Tony weaved them effortlessly through the smokey room to a booth with a good view of the stage. “Alright, what are we drinking?” He asked, clapping his hands together. Even in the dim light, Steve could see the first blush of a black eye coming in, dark hair dishevelled but somehow still looking effortlessly handsome. 

“I’m good. I’ll take a soda maybe?” he asked. Alcohol never seemed to work on him anymore. Not in any way that would be worthwhile for the sheer amount he would need to go through to feel it. And somehow, he didn’t think this little karaoke bar carried Asgardian mead. 

“Get him something fun,” Bucky answered instead. “I’ll take a beer.”

“You’re both terrible, you know that? Rogers, I’ve got you covered. Barnes, if you wanna drink 5% bread-flavored soda, you do it on your own time. Be a real man and get a brightly colored fruit smoothie designed to completely fuck you up in under 15 minutes. It’s called _efficiency_. Learn it. Love it.” He said, turning to walk away before they could argue. 

Steve glanced at Bucky and raised a brow. “What do you have up your sleeve?” He asked, both amused and suspicious.

“More in my pocket,” came the response, and Bucky carefully withdrew a small vial. It was black with gold etchings and on the side was a tiny spoon. It reminded Steve of the snuff bottles he’d seen Howard carry around a lifetime ago. But this he actually recognized.

“Is that…?”

Bucky replied with some word in Xhosa that Steve never could quite catch, but he felt a spark of excitement. _Panther powder_ was the unofficial name, a trick T’challa used in tiny doses to temporarily nullify the effects of the heart-shaped herb. It had its uses, both ritualistically and diplomatically, but to Steve it only meant one thing.

He could get drunk.

Steve grinned at his partner, trying to decide if he should put on a show of not wanting to. Even though he _very much wanted to_. Barnes didn’t give him a chance to balk. 

“Alright, open wide, tongue up. What do you say… three hours?”

“Sounds good,” he said, opening his mouth to let Bucky spoon a carefully measured amount into his mouth. It tasted rich and earthy, with a slight floral perfume and dissolved immediately under his tongue. The effect was quick, a tingling feeling that was both numbing and made his nerves feel over-sensitive, rippling down through his teeth, through his jaw and down his neck. He could feel it seep into his bloodstream and the strange chill moved through his whole body. He trembled against it, and then all at once it was as if nothing had happened. 

Bucky watched him, gently capping the vial and slipping it into his pocket again. “...Did it work?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Steve said with a shrug. “You know that’s incredibly dangerous to just be carrying around.”  
  


“Sunshine, would it kill you to relax just for one night?”

“I’m perfectly relaxed!” He shot back tersely. “I just think if in the wrong hands--”

“You are bound and determined to start another fight tonight, aren’t you? One wasn’t enough for you?” Bucky teased. 

Steve blushed a little. He could remember a day when James Barnes would rise to that and argue with him. “Yeah well… You can take the man out of the alley,” he said with a shrug.

A shadow passed over the neon glare and he looked up in time to see Tony arrive with their drinks. As promised, he was balancing three containers, none of which were a beer. A large hurricane glass was set in front of Steve, some frozen drink layered with red white and blue, topped with cherries and pineapple. 

“Something patriotic and sugary for the Boyscout,” he said, then set an old fashioned glass in front of Bucky, garnished with an orange and a mint sprig. It seemed to sparkle and as Bucky brought it to his nose, he sneezed from the carbonation.

“And a Suffering Bastard for the suffering bastard.”

“Oh how nice, they named a drink after you,” Bucky smirked. Tony slipped into the free spot beside them, his own drink red and bleeding down into orange at the base.

“Laugh all you want, I have three drinks named after me.” He said with a smirk. 

Steve let them bicker for a bit, pulling his drink curiously over to himself, turning it this way and that. His fingers left prints in the frost on the sides and he grinned a little. Lips on the dark straw, he sipped and was pleasantly surprised at how sweet and fruity it tasted. The cold masked the tingling warmth of alcohol, but he felt it. Oh. Oh Tony was right, this was going to kick like a mule. Steve grinned to himself as he settled back to enjoy his liquid supper. 

Whatever Bucky and Tony were talking about, he had stopped paying attention. Two more people had gone up onto the stage, one girl was tense but her voice was so amazing that the bar fell quiet to listen. When she was done, Tony scoffed something about wanting just one night at a karaoke bar without hearing Evanescence, but the tone wasn’t as snarky as he could have been. The other singer was an absolute disaster, but Steve found himself leaning against Bucky and cheering right along with everyone else. 

At some point Tony had gotten up, but Steve only noticed when he came back with a book, skimming it over while Steve rested his own chin on Bucky’s shoulder. Barnes laughed softly, looking down at him warmly. “Yeah? You feelin’ that drink huh?”

“Mmm… This was a great idea…”

“Of course it was, it was _mine_ ,” Tony mumbled, not looking up from his own perusal of the strange binder. Bucky rolled his eyes so hard Steve could feel it, but he didn’t reply aside from nursing his own drink a little more. 

“Alright!” Tony said with a smirk, snapping the book closed and slapping it to Bucky’s chest. Steve had to shift to avoid catching the corner with his face. “Let me show you how to _really_ make a scene.” 

He rose, heading over to take the stage. Steve grunted softly, wanting to sit up, but Bucky was so warm and so soft in a hard kind of way, and he smelled like home and spent gunpowder. “What’s he doing?”

“Looks like he’s gonna make an ass out of himself,” Bucky grunted. Steve laughed, turning his face into his bicep to hide it. Bucky grinned down at him. “You’re cute when you’re drunk.”

“M’not drunk…”

“Okay, _buzzed_.” The music had started up, something loud and vaguely familiar. Steve was sure he’d heard it before but had never paid it much mind. 

“You should sing,” Steve said suddenly, looking up at Bucky. The man was taking another sip, and Steve reached up to tip his glass higher, causing him to gag dramatically as he gulped down the contents, shooting Steve an exaggerated glare.

“I should sing, huh?” He asked, coughing as he set the glass back down.

“Yeah,” Steve said simply, turning to better watch Tony on stage. As always, he was a one-man show of charisma, belting out the lyrics with such finesse it was as if he had written the song himself. “Tough act to follow…” He muttered.

“Nah, he’s just warming them up for me.” Bucky said, reaching over to take the second half of Steve’s drink. His face was flushed a high, handsome pink, thought Steve could feel his own skin turning red and blotchy with alcohol. “See any you like?”

Steve sat up a bit, taking the book and letting his eyes skim over it. Names of songs, names of artists, of bands. All were unfamiliar and he gave a soft grunt. “I don’t see any Crosby or Sinatra.” He muttered.

Bucky laughed, a light and friendly sound that made Steve loop an arm around him and pull him closer. “Well I mean. The words go on the screen, so how hard could it be?” He asked, tilting his head.

If there was a good counter argument -- something about being even vaguely familiar with the song, knowing the mood, the tempo, literally anything about it -- Steve couldn’t think of one. This was a great idea. A wonderful, flawless, Best Idea. He grinned, nuzzling into Bucky’s neck as he tried to look at the binder again.

“Mmm, I need to get you drunk more often… How about this one?” Bucky asked, pressing his finger to a listing on the laminated paper. 

Steve tilted enough to see. “...Heroes.” He read. Then he brightened. “Hey, you’re a hero.”

“So are you, dollface.” Bucky said, closing the book, decided.

On stage, Tony’s song was coming to its conclusion and he finished strong, ending with a powerful held note and striking a pose. The entire bar roared with applause as he stood, bowed once and then tossed the mic to the DJ before strutting proudly off the stage back towards them. 

“Hell of a show, Tony,” Steve said with a grin. Bucky shifted out from under him, heading back up to the bar for a few more shots of liquid courage before his own attempt.

“Well, that’s because I’m a hell of a showman,” Tony said cattily, leaning back to reclaim his own drink. “Where’s he going?”

“Oh he’s gonna sing. Gonna show you up.” Steve said with a lopsided grin.

Tony finally turned his eyes to him, raising an amused brow. “Oh he is, is he? I wish him luck in his futile effort. What song did he pick?”

“Heroes,” Steve said, staring sadly at the fact that his red white and blue drink was now mostly just vaguely, rapidly melting slush. It was Tony’s turn to choke on his drink.

“H-heroes? He’s doing Heroes.”

“Yes?” Steve asked, sucking a cherry off of the toothpick. 

“For karaoke.”

“Yes.” He answered a little more firmly this time. 

Tony slowly grinned, watching Bucky make his way to the stage. The other man wasn’t wobbling, but he looked clearly warm and loose. “Oh this is going to be rich.”

“What? The words come right up on the television, right?”

“Yes,” Tony said with a smirk. “The words come up on the television.” His tone felt somehow condescending. “This is going to be great.”

Steve settled forward to watch his boyfriend take the microphone. The music started up, and Bucky stared at the screen like a predator, waiting to pounce on the words. His entire demeanor was in opposition to the music itself, and Steve couldn’t help but grin. Buck was doing this for him.

“Barnes, relax!” Tony called, leaning back and chuckling. 

“I -- I know! The words are gonna come up on the -- oh shit there it is I missed it!” Buck yelped, focused on the screen again. “I will be king,” he sang awkwardly, “And you… You will be queen. Wait -- wait I do know this one!”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky kept interrupting himself.

“You’ll be my queen, baby!” Bucky called, pointing at Steve across the bar. Now that he was more familiar, he started to sway with the music in between lines. And he had _plenty_ of time for swaying. “For nothing will drive them away! _Nothing_ baby, end of the lin-- shit -- we can beat them!” he sang, “Just for one day.”

Steve was giggling, one arm around his stomach as he tried to watch his friend, lit by stage lights and awkwardly swaying back and forth. His heart felt like it would burst, and he was smiling so broadly that it hurt. Bucky was so handsome up there, and it was as if the world existed for only them.

“We can be _heroes_!” he yowled enthusiastically. “Just for one day.”

Steve was _melting_ . This was so stupid, all of this was just… dumb. But Bucky -- _his_ Bucky, was on stage, proudly owning it. Because he’d asked him to. 

“And you,” Bucky sang, those ice blue eyes locked onto Steve’s bright ones. Steve could feel electricity when their gazes met. His stomach flipped, like it was 1936 all over again. “You can be mean… Punk.”

“Jerk…” Steve murmured back, not willing to blink, as if the spell might be broken if he dared look away. But Bucky’s gaze simply softened, swaying lazily from step to step. 

“And I... I’ll drink all the time.” Bucky said, them murmured agreement into the mic, looking around for alcohol within reach. There was none. His eyes flit to the next set of lyrics and he beamed. “Cuz we’re _lovers!!_ ” he said, obnoxiously loud. Steve barked laughter, hiding his face with his arms for a moment. “And that is a fact.”

Tony snickered, nudging Steve in the ribs. “Okay. Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible idea.” He took a long sip from his drink. “Your boyfriend’s an idiot though.”

“ _Yes we’re lovers!_ ” Bucky screamed, not even trying to sing it that time. The mic shrieked with feedback. “And that is that!”

“Yeah… And he’s my idiot…” Steve said, drawing his arms down to look at Bucky again. His cheeks felt hot, and it wasn’t from the earlier battle. The explosion felt like it had happened a century ago.

“Though nothing will keep us together… We could steal time… Just for one day.” Bucky crooned. 

“Til the end of the line…” Steve whispered, resting his cheek on his arm as he stared up at him, eyes glittering. The love he felt was so overwhelming, it caught in his chest, tightened his throat and made his eyes start to well.

“We can be heroes… For ever and ever. Whatcha say?” Bucky asked, holding his hand out to Steve at the table. 

Tony nudged him gently again, and when Steve turned to glance at him, he nodded towards the stage. Slowly, awkwardly, he climbed to his feet and slowly went to take Bucky’s hand. There was a soft tug of incredible strength, and he found himself beside him on the stage, pulled into a lazy slow dance. Steve looked around self-consciously, but Bucky’s metal fingers were on his chin, tapping gently to make him look up. Their eyes met and the rest of the bar dissolved away. There was no reason to be afraid. There was only them. Two heroes. Forever and ever. Slowly, hesitantly, his arms wrapped around Bucky’s chest, and they moved together as one soul.

Steve’s head rested on Bucky’s collarbone, and he felt Bucky shift to nuzzle gently into his hair. Despite the heat of the stage lights, despite the knowledge that there, hidden by the glare of the bulbs and the relative darkness of the rest of the bar, dozens of eyes were watching their tender moment, Steve had never felt more relaxed and loved than in this moment. Never more _in love_ than in this moment. 

He wasn’t sure if Bucky was missing a verse, though at this point anything was possible. Not that it mattered. What mattered was the way he was breathing into his hair as if trying to memorize his scent all over again, the way his lips moved against his ear. “I love you, Punk…” He whispered to him, and Steve felt his eyes well with emotion for the second time that night. 

“I love you, Jerk.” He whispered back. Bucky’s dancing slowed and he nudged him gently with his nose, coaxing him again to look up. Pale eyes studied bright ones for a moment, and then right there in front of the world, he kissed him. 

Steve had no words for the sudden surge of emotions he felt. An eager, panicky, stubborn, flighty, ferocious, delicate warmth rose in him, starting in his gut and rising to his heart, to his limbs, to his lips. He realized his eyes had been wide with surprise only when he felt them flutter shut and relaxed into the darkness of their shared motion. The sensation ran through him like a river in a storm, electric and unyielding, unrelenting and he was helpless against the current. So he simply moved with it, melting against his strength.

He felt Bucky’s forehead on his own and slowly opened his eyes again. “We can be heroes… Just for one day.” Bucky promised, looking into his eyes questioningly. Steve held his breath, and biting his lower lip almost shyly, he nodded in agreement. Pale eyes widened at the answer to his secret question and sparkled like the sky in high summer. Bucky drew back with a grin, keeping him to him with an arm around his body. Keeping him close. And safe. Just like he used to all those years ago. 

“I will be King!” Bucky cried into the microphone with a renewed fervor. “And you will be Queen! And nothing will drive us away!” It was no longer a song, but a victory cry and Steve could hear the passion cracking his voice. 

“We can be heroes! Just for one day.” Bucky declared, daring anyone to argue him. When nobody did, he pressed his forehead to Steve’s again, sweaty from the intensity of the lights, eyes hunting for that answer again.

“We can be _us_ ,” he begged softly. “Just for one day.”

Again Steve nodded, and this time it was his turn to reach up, both hands gently cupping his jaw, drawing Bucky into a deep, tender kiss. This time it was Bucky’s turn to melt, and he made a soft moan in his throat that Steve felt more than heard, drowned out by the music all around them. 

“Take me home,” Steve heard himself whisper, and with eyes foggy with affection, able to see only him, Bucky nodded in response. He groped to put the mic back on its stand, missed, and it clattered to the stage floor with a squeal of feedback. Bucky turned effortlessly and stepped down off the stage, helping Steve as if he were small all over again. 

Bucky laughed and it was contagious, leading each other through the smoke and the haze towards the exit. It was only them, only the night, only each other.

“Hey--” Tony cried from their table, but the door was already opening. 

They could be _them_ , just for one day. 

“Hey -- _Hey_ come back you’re my ride!”

As they escaped into the humid night, the tangle of lazy guitar followed them and together they disappeared into the sleepless city. The lingering sounds of their playful shared joy left the air tingling in their wake and in a moment, that too was dissolved into the secret background hum. They would be free.

Just for one day.


End file.
